Nervous. Uneasy. Anxious. Jittery. Afraid.
I grappled with all of these emotions prior to my first Festival practice. Festival is a national field hockey tournament held in Florida over Thanksgiving break every year. In 2017, my field hockey club put together a team they wanted to send to the tournament, holding several practices beforehand to prepare.
Back then, I was still a rather awkward seventh grader. I listened to One Direction every day in my room, I wore a Lululemon headband everywhere I went and I had braces.
To make matters worse, all the girls on the team were older than me by a wide margin, as many of them were in high school. The thought of embarrassing myself in front of cool older girls was a crippling fear.
In enters: my dad, Dan.
Driving me to the first Festival practice, my dad put the Washington Commander’s football game on the radio to take my mind off of things. He knew I was nervous. I think he was nervous because I was nervous.
Upon arrival at the field, my dad parked the car in the lot nearby. We sat in painful silence before he embarked on one of his trademark “dad talks.” My father is a fountain of wisdom. He is the go-to guy if you need an inspirational speech before a big game.
I wish I could remember exactly what he said to me in the car that day, but truthfully I can only remember one phrase from that conversation:
“I’ll be here at 5:30 p.m. to pick you up when practice is over.”
This promise was hardly anything special. Chauffeur duties are largely part of the job description as a field hockey dad. Yet, the simple reassurance that he would be there gave me great comfort. So what if I fell on my face? At least my dad would be there to pick up the broken pieces when it was over.
And sure enough, at 5:15 p.m., my dad was on the field, waving to me from the sidelines. I remember his smile stretched from ear to ear. He definitely saw me mess up a few drills, but he gave me a thumbs-up anyways. More than six years have passed since that day, and I still giggle at the memory.
This moment serves as the perfect microcosm of our relationship. My dad has always been there to support me, albeit through small gestures that many would overlook.
He was the dad who bought me dried mangos before my games because he knew that they were my favorite snack. He was the dad who belted songs like “Uptown Funk” with me in the car at seven in the morning because he knew it would pump me up for my game. He was the dad who stood out in the arctic wind, freezing rain and blistering heat just to see me sit on the bench. He was the dad who would drive from Maryland to Pennsylvania and back every single weekend to support me during my tournaments.
He was the dad who cheered alongside me after I made the team.
He was the dad who sat beside me after my coach made me cry.
He was the dad who always showed up and taught me to do the same ever since.
I never went on to become a collegiate field hockey player. I didn’t even play well at that damn Festival tournament. Instead, I’m writing about the dad who was there for me at 5:15.
Sports mean nothing without the people who make a commitment to the team and decide to see it through. Relationships are no different. Leading by his own example, my dad showed me the importance of showing up, both on and off the field. I don’t think I could’ve asked for a greater gift.
So, in return, this is my gift to you.
Happy Father’s Day, Dad.
Love,
#22
Statement Contributor Ellie Richard can be reached at gabrich@umich.edu